


The Bigger Picture

by LordSaucy



Category: Scion (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Science, introspective, toxins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10571919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordSaucy/pseuds/LordSaucy
Summary: "You can't even begin to know how much you disgust me," my tone was matter of fact. My eyes rolled away from the paralyzed man in bed next to me while I righted myself from my prone position. The sheet covering my nakedness fell away, and the chill from the over-worked AC unit in the room gave rise to goosebumps over my uncovered flesh.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all! This is my first Scion fiction. It's for my first ever Scion PC. Her name is Zoe, and she is the child of Aphrodite. This will also be x-posted on ff.net under theNogleverse (my RPG account)

"You can't even begin to know how much you disgust me," my tone was matter of fact. My eyes rolled away from the paralyzed man in bed next to me while I righted myself from my prone position. The sheet covering my nakedness fell away, and the chill from the over-worked AC unit in the room gave rise to goosebumps over my uncovered flesh.

 

I swung my clean-shaven legs out from under the sheet and stood. This place was gross. One of those off the highway pay-by-the-hour deals that never gets cleaned enough and smells of broken dreams. This didn't even make the long list of places I wanted to do my work, but the meat-neck that I left in bed nearly came when I suggested we go somewhere private, and this was the closest place.

 

Thankfully the paralytic I had given him kicked in before we got past what he called 'foreplay' so I didn't have to be subjected to what he thought sex was. It was hilarious when the effects had started to kick in. Listening to the strangled cries he made die out as he tried to ask for help was truly the highlight of my evening.

 

The sticky carpet of the motel room clung to my bare feet as I crossed the small space between the queen sized bed and the table by the window where my purse sat. My nose crinkled at the feeling, a shower would definitely be needed when I got home later.

 

Out of all the places he could have brought me, I grumbled to myself as I searched through the pockets of the black leather shoulder bag for the hardcase where I kept the good stuff.  Figures he thinks of me as some common whore, my eyes narrowed at the crack in the curtains as I continued to grope for the case. They all do.

 

Call me a Cynic but most men given the chance will treat any woman like an object to be used and tossed out when they get bored. I had seen it and been prey to it time and time again. 

 

_ Clack _ .

 

My fingernails found the hard plastic of my sharps case. It was one that I had bought from a local supplier that usually only dealt with hospitals and EMT’s. It took them a while to found a size that would fit in a Gucci hand bag, but they finally pulled through. I pulled at the zipper’s clasp and quickly guided it around the three sides to lay the case flat on the small off kilter table before me.

 

The lump of toned flesh on the bed let out a muffled cry as I made a show of sliding two of the needles out of their elastic prison. Despite my bid to remain professional a small smile crept across my painted lips.  _ Such a wonderful sound _ . I always tried to remain as detached as possible once the courting part of the night was over--it was always in a scientist’s best interests to keep their subjects at arms reach to avoid any emotion from getting involved. 

 

My eyes slid to the dark sweat covered skin of my subject. The whites of his eyes stood out against the near blackness of his coloring. His nostrils flared as he sucked in life giving oxygen and quivered only slightly as he exhaled.  My smile disappeared. 

 

_I might have misjudged his dose._ _He shouldn’t be able to quiver._

 

Oh well. I would just have to work quicker. 

 

I tossed a swath of vibrant red hair back over my shoulder and reached for the two vials wrapped securely in bubble wrap within the hardcase. One was a rich lilac, and the other was more of a royal hue of violet. Both had small bits of debris floating in them, crushed petals from the plants the poisons were distilled from. 

 

I set the bottles down gently and prepared two syringes making sure to rid the chambers of any air bubbles. No point in scientific research if it wasn’t done right from the start. Based on what I thought his weight was, and his height, I fixed just under what I had found a lethal dose was for both droughts. 

 

Tonight’s venture was going to be truly exciting. I had tested both serums on their own dozens of times, but tonight would be the first time trying them both on a singular subject. 

 

I crossed the room with both syringes quietly trying to ignore the gross carpet beneath my feet and set them down on the night stand next to the paralyzed man. His eyes pleaded with me to not continue my mission. His sweat soaked skin made a light slap as I patted one of his pectoral muscles, in an empty gesture of comfort. 

 

I grabbed the first syringe and readied the point at the thick ropey vein in his forearm. “You might feel a pinch, and then some burning,” I warned before feeling the telltale pop of his skin and then the smoothness of his arm swallowing the thin needle. 

 

I pushed the plunger of the lilac liquid slowly making sure to force every last drop into the bloodstream of my date. A guttural groan rose from his chest, signaling the start of the dull burn that was now coursing up his arm. The dose of wolfsbane I had just given him would have killed someone of my size. I had distilled it into a saturated form that would start showing signs nearly immediately, as my usual places of work generally didn’t allow for an extended period of study. 

 

First the burning sensation would carry through his body, and as it hit the abdomen the effects would become violently clear. Nausea to the point of throwing up, and uncontrollable diarrhea were the most showy of side effects. The more quiet ones were numbness and tingling to the point of ‘dead’ limbs, and eventually paralysis of the heart. 

 

The groaning had reached a fever pitch by now, and I could see his abs clench and release as the serum worked its way through his body. I again allowed myself a small smile and reached for vial number two: Nightshade. The nightshade had the same abdominal symptoms as the wolfsbane, but the added bonus of hallucinations and headaches. This dose was a bit higher, as I hadn’t perfected as strong a stock as the wolfsbane, and I wanted to see what would happen with both poisons combined. It was probably too early for such a test to have any results taken seriously, but I was antsy. 

 

The royal liquid disappeared into my subject’s veins quickly. As soon as it was all gone, i removed the needle, gathered the other one carefully into my hands and headed back to the table on the far side of the room.  _ No evidence _ . I had learned that early on when I had nearly been caught in the southwest almost two years ago now. If it hadn’t been for my knack to be extremely convincing I’d be wearing an orange jumpsuit and eating bologna sandwiches right now.  _ Ugh. _

 

The vials and needles fit back into the hard case easily. There wasn’t much to do now but wait to see what his reactions would be, so I decided to get dressed again. There was a great chance with the side effects these toxins presented would create a rather potent smell, and I didn’t want to be trapped in it for longer than necessary. 

 

Thankfully in a bid to present myself as ‘coy’ I had undressed myself near the table when we had arrived so all of my clothing was close. Granted it was just a pair of underwear and my favorite little black dress, but still. They both laid draped over one of the uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. I grabbed the lacy black undergarment and turned it over in my hands trying to discern which way was the correct way for them to go on. It took a bit longer than I would have liked in the darkened room, but I finally got them situated and stepped into them without any further trouble. 

 

The dress was easier. It was a simple A-line skirt with thin shoulder straps that zipped along the left side. That went on quickly, and as soon as the ‘zzzzt’ of the zipper finished sounding I reached into my purse past the hard case for my small notepad I kept for such occasions.

 

The paralytic I had given him earlier was wearing off, so there was moderate struggle as his manicured nails gripped at his stomach. He was trying anything to stop the burning at this point. He alternated between crunching himself into the fetal position and straightening out like a board. 

 

“ Please,” the first word he had uttered in nearly thirty minutes came out as a sickened mewl. I rolled my eyes to the water stained ceiling and sat in the hard wooden chair. “Zoe, please!”

 

My eyes narrowed at the sound of my name and the pitiful attempt to humanize me in the heat of one of my most long awaited experiments.  _ There’s no way you’re getting out of this _ , I glowered. Even if I had taken pity on him, there was no antitoxin. 

 

The man continued on, convulsing for a few minutes before the first bout of vomit showered my empty side of the bed. It was tinged green from the liquor he had ingested before we made our way to this no-tell motel, and sunk quickly into the dingy white pillowcase. The smell was atrocious--I nearly gagged and I was across the room. My subject who was right next to it vomited again from the smell, this time doubling in half due to the force, and soiling himself in the process.

 

_ I wondered if that would happen _ . I looked away from the grotesque scene in front of me and began to jot down my notes quickly using tiny block letters to fit two lines of analysis on one of the paper’s lines. His cries for help were still soft but more frequent as I wrote. He began to complain that his head hurt. Another symptom. 

 

I was slightly upset that he hadn’t shown signs of hallucinations, but maybe that would come in time. Though from the sounds of the vomiting and diarrhea he probably wouldn’t have too much time left. There were still other factors to consider, though, such as heart failure. _Fuck_ _I should have been listening!_ My eyes closed and I tried to focus in on the sound of my heart beating. It was there, steady and calm, as if I were enjoying a night home with a cup of tea and a good book. Then, after I had honed in on my heart beat, I pushed my consciousness outward and tried to listen for his. 

 

The erratic beats of his straining heart jumped out at me immediately. It was more of a conga beat than anything else, five quick beats then a skip, followed by three beats and two skips. Arrhythmia. I smiled and opened my eyes to find his fist now clutching at his chest, gasping for air between blurps of vomit.

 

I jotted down the last of my notes. This one wasn’t going to last much longer, and the smell of excrement and vomit was permeating the room in a manner that almost made me feel for whomever would find this guy in the morning. The cover of my notebook shut over the half a page I had devoted to this waste of space with a finality that was almost poetic given the situation.

 

“ Time to go,” My feet slid into my pumps and I stood gracefully, rocking my heels into place to further wedge myself into the shiny black patent leather. The subject tried his best to sit up after I spoke, but fell back into the pools of fluids he had spewed over the bed. The realization that he wasn’t leaving this room hit his eyes, which widened enough that there was a clear ring of white around his irises. 

 

His heart began to beat faster in his panic, and the arrhythmia became more pronounced while I turned to gather my bag and make sure that I had all of my belongings. “Thank you for your time,” I shouldered my purse and headed the few steps to the door, crinkling my nose as my movement stirred the air. All the while his heartbeat quickened, stopped and quickened again. 

 

The knob of the door was cold and pitted from years of use. I could feel the grit within as I turned it hoping to let in the cool of the night air outside. The door had barely opened an inch when I felt the tendrils of cold wrap around my shoulder. The walk back to my car would be a pleasant one. 

 

The chill of the mid October night enveloped me as I shut the door to my subject’s tomb behind me cutting off his weakened cries for help mid sentence. It was a welcome change from the smell and damp heat of the room. My heels clicked as I stepped off the small curb in front of the door and headed into the parking lot towards the main road. It was only a couple of blocks back to the club, and I would take exercise when I could get it. 

 

As I wound myself between the cars on my way to the road I listened for my subject’s heartbeat to see if he would give up before my feet carried me too far for my senses to keep tabs. His heartbeat was incredibly slow now, and the arrhythmia wasn’t helping him any. By the time I made it out to the street, his heart was barely beating at all.

 

My lips parted to show my bright white teeth in the same smile that had attracted my subject in the first place. There was nothing like the rush of a successful experiment. Not even the initial recruitment had the same feeling--only when their hearts stopped did I feel like I had achieved any modicum of victory. 

 

This subject, Michael Barnes would not have lost his life in vain. He was part of a bigger picture, a grand plan. His stature, size--his being the peak of human perfection was exactly what I needed to get closer to my preferred subject matter:  Godlings. 

 

 


End file.
